


Blame the Eggnog

by FuchsiaMae



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas Party, F/M, Happy Holidays from Aperture Labs, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2019-08-01 23:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16293830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuchsiaMae/pseuds/FuchsiaMae
Summary: It's Aperture's yearly Non-Denominational Winter Holiday Party, and Cave and Caroline are drunk. PWP(Originally posted to Tumblr 12/25/14)





	Blame the Eggnog

Every year at Aperture Science, the company holds a Non-Denominational Winter Holiday party for its employees. They open up the facility’s largest auditorium, otherwise only used for their biggest press events, decking it out in tinsel and greenery until the place could put a Macy’s display to shame. They have music, of course, all the old favorites—“Have Yourself A Merry Little [Non-Denominational Winter Holiday],” “I’ll Be Home For [Non-Denominational Winter Holiday],” “It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like [Non-Denominational Winter Holiday],” and the rest. They have plenty of food. Everyone is invited, from lab techs to lawyers, department heads to cleaning staff, the CEO to the newest intern. Once a year, every employee of Aperture gets to mingle with the other departments, to chat and dance, to blow off the year’s stress, and to drink.

New employees are given one warning:  _watch the eggnog_.

Because, you see, the eggnog is provided by Cave Johnson’s personal assistant, who makes it herself. It is the best eggnog you will ever taste. It’s served in small teacups, and you will down four of them before you realize. And then you  _will_  realize that it is very  _very strong_.

“Mr. Johnson!”

People heard her from across the room, and turned to see Caroline disappearing through the crowd as her boss pulled her onto the dance floor. They did not hear his reply, purred into her ear through a tipsy grin—she heard it, though, and blushed.

“Sir, that is hardly work-appropriate,” she would’ve said earlier. Now she laughed too loudly and didn’t care who could hear.

He spun her around the floor in a whirl of light and chatter, “A Holly Jolly [Non-Denominational Winter Holiday]” spilling from the loudspeakers, and she felt giddy and light on his arm as they fell into a foxtrot. Or tried to.

“Whoops—”

“Careful!”

When sober, they were very good dancers.

“Shit—”

“Sir—oh!”

Now they laughed and stumbled and tripped on themselves, nearly fell, picked each other up, and gradually found a rhythm as Burl Ives finished and a slower song began. The important thing wasn’t the dance. It was the way she pressed into him too close as they swayed, and the way he caught her too tight when she slipped, and the way both of their hands wandered. Employees around then cleared a polite circle and pretended not to watch. Caroline was too far gone to care—and Cave wouldn’t have cared anyway.

They passed another song or two this way, until in the middle of “Merry [Non-Denominational Winter Holiday] To You,” Caroline leaned in and whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Hunh?” Cave murmured back, nuzzled into her hair.

“Let’s  _go_ , sir.” She glanced meaningfully at the door.

“I’m havin’ fun.”

“I know.” She guided his face up to meet her eyes, and when he saw the look in hers, he caught on.

“Oh.  _Oh_.” He already felt warm, but a flush of anticipation spread up his chest. “You wanna… go up to the office?”

“ _Let’s go_.”

She started to pull him along, but didn’t have to go far before he took the lead. Grabbing her arm, he took off through the crowd, sloshing drinks in hands as he pushed past people until they reached the exit. He dragged her out of the auditorium and down the hall, past the outliers of the party who clustered in conversation by the doors, under a strand of low-hanging tinsel that nearly clotheslined him, and out of sight around the corner. They almost made it to the elevators before she latched onto him lips-first and sent them both toppling onto the floor.

They fell in a heap of giggles and didn’t bother getting up. In fact Cave felt quite comfortable on the dingy industrial carpet, he thought, as his assistant snuggled up at his side. She lay her head on his chest and looked up at him—red-faced and shining with sweat, hair tousled out of its neat coiffure, brown eyes gleaming—and she was so beautiful he would’ve kissed her, if she hadn’t kissed him first.

She drew herself partway on top of him as her lips found his. No waiting for his advances, not tonight—her tongue plunged into his mouth, hungry and searching, as she kissed him hard. Her eagerness lit a fire in his belly. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, pulling her up to straddle him, and his fingers down her spine made her shiver. She kissed him harder, hands running through his hair, feeling her pulse start to race in earnest as arousal tingled through her.

Beneath her, Mr. Johnson squirmed with his own need. She could feel his cock through his pants. Almost without thinking, she ground her hips against his. He groaned against her mouth—and when he thrust up hard, ramming himself against her, the force left them both breathless.

They broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and found themselves staring into each other’s eyes, seeing the same urgent need.

“Office?”

“Too far.”

“Where?”

But she had an answer. “There.” A set of double doors hanging open a few yards down the hall. Cave didn’t know where they led, but Caroline did, and that was good enough for him. “Come on,” she coaxed, and he let her haul him to his feet.

The doors, it turned out, led to a large storage closet, empty but for some folding chairs stacked against one wall, a few folding tables, and scattered stray baubles that hadn’t made it into the auditorium. She pulled him inside.

They slammed the doors shut and fumbled for the lightswitch, in the wrong order, but finally the bare bulb overhead flickered on. One of the folding tables stood open at the back. They saw it and had the same idea.

She wobbled in her heels but managed to get across the floor by herself, hopping up on the table as her boss began to fiddle with his fly. His hands were having trouble. “Sir?”

“I got it, I got it—”

“C’mere, c’mere…”

She grabbed his tie and pulled him into a kiss with one hand as the other slid down his pants, grabbing the hard length of him. He groaned loudly and thrust into the touch. The zipper wasn’t as easy as usual, but she managed better than he had, and then his pants were around his knees as he shoved his hips between her open legs. Reaching down, he pushed aside her panties and felt her wetness.

“Hoo boy.”

“Hm?”

“You need it, huh…?” His fingertips teased her slit, and he felt her shudder.

“ _Yes, sir_ …”

“You been thinking about me?”

“That’s my job.” Pulling him in close, she breathed in his ear, “And you know I love my job.”

Whatever his response would’ve been, it became a moan on his lips as she nibbled his earlobe and kissed down his neck, one hand fondling his balls as she did. She felt him stiffen in her hand, felt him throb with urgency, as his own fingers made her squirm. Her head rested on his shoulder as they touched each other, and the familiar smell of him—under the cookies-and-cinnamon artificial scent they’d been circulating in the party room—urged the hot coals in her belly to a blaze. She felt how he wanted her, in his strong hands and his hard cock and his labored breath on her skin, and that was more intoxicating than any drink.

At last he couldn’t stand it any more. He flipped up the skirt of her pretty red party dress and thrust his head against her slit. Forcing in just the tip was enough to make her gasp. She clenched her thighs around him and whispered, “Easy.”

“Y’okay?”

“Yes sir.”

He pulled back and began the shallowest of strokes, sliding just his head inside her each time. “This okay?”

The quick but shallow rhythm made her tingle from navel to toes. “Yes, sir…”

She melted in his arms, and with each stroke he felt her open a little more, warm and wet and eager to take him. Her legs around his hips guided him just a little deeper. He wanted more, he needed to feel her clench around every inch of him, but he had learned by now that anticipation could be just as good as taking what he pleased. Still, though, he was an impatient man. She let him in just a bit further, and he whined, “You’re  _so wet_ …”

Breathless, she could only nod. He felt so big inside her, hitting every nerve just right, and every little bit made her ache for more. She took him by inches, little by little, until he was there almost to the hilt and his tip found her sweet spot perfectly and she felt every move like lightning through her body and as she came to orgasm she moaned, “ _Fuck me, Mr. Johnson_.”

He needed no other prompting. She let out a yelp as he slammed into her, roughly grabbing her hips to thrust as deep as he could go. Now he took what he pleased. He fucked her hard and fast and it hurt and she loved it. Lying back on the table changed the angle so that his cock rammed directly into her g-spot, and she howled with pleasure as he fucked her hard enough to bruise. “Oh god—oh sir—fuck me, sir— _fuck me_ , Mr. Johnson—”

He grunted and thrust one last time, and she felt his whole body shudder as he spilled into her. She pulled him into a kiss as he finished. Panting hard, he flopped down on top of her and let out a heavy sigh, limp and exhausted. And that was what finally broke the table.

Their activity had jostled loose the metal ring that kept the left-side legs from folding under, and the sudden weight sent the table crashing, and the lovers along with it. Cave swore and Caroline yelped again as they tumbled to the floor.

“Shit. Jesus. You okay?” He’d managed to catch himself on his hands and knees, but she was on the bottom this time, and she’d hit the ground hard.

She looked up with a smile though, winded but safe. “I’m okay.” And she giggled.

Her grin was contagious, and in a moment they were laughing in a heap on the floor. He rolled over, letting her snuggle up under his arm, and chuckled, “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”

“Merry Nonenod—Nodenomo—Merry Christmas, sir.”

It was a good twenty minutes more before they decided to pick themselves up and go, at which point they realized the doors had locked from the outside when they closed them. Everyone else was still in the auditorium, so no one heard their banging. In fact it wasn’t until past midnight, when the party started to wrap up, that anyone came by at all. Around then the party-throwing committee started to bundle up tablecloths, fold chairs, and bring it all back to storage—where they found the boss and his assistant, sprawled half-naked on top of each other, sound asleep.

No one had the guts to wake them. They propped the door open on the way out. 


End file.
